A Renaissance Vulcan
by gad-eshu'a
Summary: Spock as we all know is a romantic at heart though his teachings of Surak hold his emotions physically at bay. So what's a half human Vulcan to do with all those feels? Write moody, emo ( albeit Vulcan emo) poetry, of course. Rated M for only the suggestion of sex in a couple of the poems (nothing graphic here folks)


_There a few times that words escape me, that I find myself speechless because the lexicon of our times has yet to advance and be able to encapsulate how I feel when I think of you. And how I do think of you, Nyota Uhura. Often times when I'm swept up in an emotion, whether negative or positive. I need my logic to buoy my mind in the surging sea of what am I as a Vulcan male and safeguard my actions. In my effort to shield others or more aptly you, you drown me, Nyota._

 _Just as I found myself a safe harbor here in Starfleet, you came and engulfed me like a squall. There was no circumventing you because I could not or even more frightening would not fight the pull of my attraction towards you._

 _I welcomed every sight, delighted in every sound, reveled in every scent and savored each touch whether accidental or intentional. In a world of wonder, so alien from my own home world I find you to be a perfect blend familiar and exotic, shamefully so._

 _Spock_

 **Expression pressed latinum**

How can this exchange of emotional currency take place,

when there are no immediate scales or meters to measure or define them?

How should one gauge the value of happiness for a Human versus a Bajoran

when neither can experience the others' joy by any tactical means like a Vulcan?

Stories or poetry? Paintings or movies? Each of them composed

in hopes of becoming a poignant legal tender for emotions but all

fall short of actualized. They only had meaning because one decided

to assign it but what are the arts really worth if not bartered along

with an intention to make one's own emotions validated in the viewer's heart?

 **Jaded**

She lies alone in bed, tracing the spots on her arms with her eyes as she traces the lovers staining her recollection. There is one that stands out, a mar on her heart that she can never

discount or recapture. It was beautiful love they had 2 lifetimes ago, like none she had ever experienced in her unjoined life but when the opportunity to seize it back presents itself she is wounded by taboo. It scars her face in the shape of a frown and its renowned beauty is lost. She rises and watches the flitter from the window leaving to some destination before stepping on the sill and following after it without anything to catch her but the hope of another chance in another life.

 **Burn**

I would say it's better to not know one will go mad.

The fear of it knowingly coming for your sanity leaves you with a different craze; paranoia, and I found mine compounded when I felt myself burn for you.

It wasn't enough to want you, nor even enough to call you my own, I _had_ to possess _you_.

Cover every inch of who and what you are with who and what I am so you can only find yourself when you look to me.

Your bondage to me condemns you to weather my derangement; that you willingly did once and would do so again makes my sanguine body all the more feverish.

Maybe _you_ are the reason that I lose all logic?

Maybe _your_ existence is too much for my mind to bear for seven standard years, maybe you are some delightful figment concocted during my brush with death.

It's only when I hold you down and sink into you I know you to be real.

 **If it weren't for your_, Nyota then...**

Where others would see weakness and flaws I see reasons to talk to you.

Small excuses for me to come over to your station and lean over your chair,

smell your hair and look into your eyes as I mumble something about the glitches I found in your console mainframe this morning.

Your inability to stay standing when we brush a few clicks past an anomaly allows me to help you

to your feet, hold your cool hands and brace your back as you gain your balance unscrutinized by the rest of the bridge.

As I am closer to your station and can simply hurry over to do so, it is only logical that I should bear this burden.

And what good would it do me to help you up and not check for an injury, perhaps somewhere along your ankle when you fall or your backside as you landed? Yes, we do not need to have you manning your post if you cannot perform your duties admirably?

I find your reports during debriefing after an away mission to be lacking in detail, so I take it upon myself to gather more information on the social complexities of the latest alien species we have encounter, even if it takes all of your time off duty to do so, logging every single moment away in my mind for recollection later while I'm busy at work.

Yes, flaws are a natural occurrence in the nature and I reason that the best way of dealing with yours is to handle them gently, thoroughly and regularly.

 **Verity**

Understanding a fact does not mean accepting it.

There are many facts I understand about myself and one thousand eight hundred fifty three about her.

The most blatant ones claw at my conscious whenever I see Nyota.

Fact: You are a Cadet. I am a Commander.

Fact: You are human. I am a human and Vulcan living my life solely as the latter.

Fact: You are attracted to me, emotionally, physically, sexually. I am mutually affected.

Fact: Crossing the line from professional to personal in our relationship would mean consequences both known and unforeseen.

Fact: We have not let these or any other facts stand in our way.

 **Duet**

As I played my lute and she wove her song that evening, the lyrics took on new meaning, the music a different scale and our duet, another layer. Before the night was through I composed a new song, and I listened to her practice, in awe of her range and memorized as she followed me to the end with such high, lilting notes.

 **Base**

This time I am slow, gentle hands and soft words,

As with everything I do, this act thorough,

my intentions clearly defined and outlined.

Despite this you still shiver and shake, looking

as the doe does in the jaws of the wolf.

Docile, excited but fearful as the other fair sexed creatures

have been before her. I tear her apart from innocent to knowing,

and her body imbues the sheets tearfully in her newfound knowledge.

So much of this rite is sanguinary and I feel your pain as I hold you

during this transition

but there, in that place where my face has fallen inside the shadow of your hair,

I find my power of ascendancy over you to be quite agreeable.


End file.
